Blame
by roxierocks
Summary: Ryan knew that it was his entire fault really, and that no matter how hard he blamed Marissa, how much he shouted at her, how much he wanted it to be her fault, it was his, and that if Seth died he would never be able to look at himself, at anyone, again.


Disc: don't own any of it

a/n: this is just a really random thing I wrote in an hour, because I was sick of reading stories in which Ryan gets hurt because of something Seth does. It's kind of inspired by that episode in season two "The ex-factor". Not really any time line, just a bit after that. Um, no Lindsey because I basically forgot to put her in! All mistakes are mine. r&r.

Blame, v(t)  
**1** to find fault with

**2 a** to hold responsible

**to blame** at fault

It was because of the fight, the stupid, _stupid_ fight, and Ryan knew that it was his entire fault really, and that no matter how hard he blamed Marissa, how much he shouted at her, how much he _wanted_ it to be her fault, it was his, and that if Seth died he would never be able to look at himself, at anyone, again without knowing that is was _his_ fault, that he had killed Seth.

It was all his fault.

Seth never had been good at taking no for an answer. Ryan knew this. Knew Seth liked to get his own way. Yet still he had insisted, thought it would do Seth some good. Yeah, real good.

God, if Seth died…

_Please don't let him die. Please don't let him die._

That stupid, _stupid_ fight.

It was all Ryan's fault.

* * *

Ryan was getting slowly annoyed. 

"I want to go out."

He glanced briefly up from his American History textbook.

"Now?"

Seth nodded. "Right now. Now, as in Bruce Banner turns the Hulk now."

Ryan blinked slowly. "I can't now. I have homework."

Seth scowled. "But I'm bored," he whined.

Ryan put down the book with restrained impatience. "Seth, I really have to finish this, okay? We can out tomorrow. Or you can call Zach. But I have to work."

Seth pouted. "Please?"

Ryan forced a tight smile. "No. Work." He flickered his eyes meaningfully toward the door.

To his surprise, instead of scowling and complaining loudly as he normally would, Seth just stared at him, silently.

"You really don't want to hang?"

Ryan sighed. "Seth, I have to do this."

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll just, you know, call some homies, or whatever, see you later dude."

He quickly exited the pool house, and Ryan stared after him, feeling marginally guilty. How was it that only Seth could make him feel guilty for actually _doing_ his homework?

He sighed and went back to his book, trying to ignore the little twist in his stomach and Seth's weird reaction. He would apologise to Seth later, they would play some GTA, everything would be fine.

* * *

Seth wasn't entirely sure why he had called Marissa, because he never usually hung out with her. Except that one time he'd gone to complain to her and she'd directed him to Summer and Zach having a perfect lunch with Summer's dad and, well, that one hadn't turned exactly as he'd planned. 

But Marissa was fun, right? And Seth was _bored_, and Ryan was being _boring_ and Seth just needed to get out and do something, go somewhere, _be_ someone.

So here he was, at the Bait Shop with Marissa.

And it turned out Marissa was _definitely_ the right person to call, because Marissa knew how to have fun. And fun's name was Jack.

* * *

Marissa realised that Seth couldn't hold his alcohol, and that he was already pretty wasted. That was a shame, really, because the night was young, and Marissa certainly hadn't drunk enough to fade out the constant pounding of pain and disappointment in her head. 

But hey, you win some, you loose some.

Marissa could always just drink some more when she got home. And she usually did.

Home. Hmm. Maybe she should try and get Seth back, or Ryan would start his mother hen act about staying out late, blah, blah. God, Ryan had turned into such a drag.

She tired to ignore the way the pounding in her head grew worse when she thought of Ryan.

"Come on you. Time to get you back."

Seth murmured nonsensical words against her neck as she helped him stand up, and giggled loudly when they lurched, banging into the table.

She shot apologetic eyes at Alex as they made their way towards the stairs.

Alex, another disappointment, another pain. Another pound.

Seth laughed and babbled as they tripped up the spiral staircase and Marissa felt herself smiling, suddenly wishing she had made more of an effort with Seth, tried harder to be his friend, because right now, when she was tired and her head was pounding, he was all she had.

* * *

Ryan grew restless when he realised that Seth had gone ahead and gone out without him, but not with Zach, Because Zach was with Summer. And when he called Alex at the club, and Alex informed him that Seth was with Marissa and they looked like they were having a bit _too_ much of a good time, if he knew what she meant, he was angry and hurt and jealous because it shouldn't be Seth and Marissa. It wasn't right. 

And he jumped to the wrong conclusion, and raced over there, terrified that he would find Seth in Marissa's arms, that he would find them kissing.

But what he saw, halfway there, was much worse.

* * *

Seth was aware that something wasn't right, because he was clinging to Marissa (who smelt _really_ good) and he was stumbling and his vision was all fuzzy. 

Marissa was laughing at something he had said, and their voices sounded all echoey in his head, and he suddenly felt light, weightless, problem free and he left Marissa, left her as he ran, ran, ran and he felt like Superman.

He felt like Superman, if only for a moment.

* * *

Marissa screamed as the car hit. 

For a moment there was confusion, brakes squealing, lights dancing a crazy path across the road, her own voice in her ears, loud and shrill and never ending.

Then the car sped up and there was just silence. Awful, never ending silence, and Seth's body lay crumpled and broken and very, very still.

She ran to him, clumsy in her high heels, and she knelt by him, half expecting him to open his eyes, to laugh, to say he'd fooled her, because it seemed like something Seth would do.

But he didn't.

"Seth. Seth. Seth."

She whispered his name, over and over, tears coursing down her cheeks as she grasped at his lifeless body.

"Seth. Seth. Seth."

* * *

Ryan saw the car hit. Felt the bone jarring crunch as Seth's body made impact. Head the roar of the car's engine as it sped up again. 

Ryan ran. He ran so hard, so fast, but it wasn't enough, it was never enough, and he felt strangled, strangled as he watched Marissa crouching over Seth. Broken Seth.

"Seth!" he cried, the words forcing themselves out of his throat, Marissa's eyes wide and desperate as she stared at him.

"It wasn't my fault!" she said, but Ryan ignored her, pushed past because of course it was her fault, wasn't it?

* * *

It was because of the fight, the stupid, _stupid_ fight, and Ryan knew that it was his entire fault really, and that no matter how hard he blamed Marissa, how much he shouted at her, how much he _wanted_ it to be her fault, it was his, and that if Seth died he would never be able to look at himself, at anyone, again without knowing that is was _his_ fault, that he had killed Seth. 

It was all his fault.

Seth never had been good at taking no for an answer. Ryan knew this. Knew Seth liked to get his own way. Yet still he had insisted, thought it would do Seth some good. Yeah, real good.

God, if Seth died…

_Please don't let him die. Please don't let him die._

That stupid, _stupid_ fight.

It was all Ryan's fault.

He sat, hunched over in a hospital waiting chair, waiting. Waiting.

Marissa was next to him. She was crying. Crying. Her breath hitched slightly, and he knew she was going to say something to him, and he couldn't _bear_ it, so he moved to stand up and then her hand was on his arm, and all he could see was Seth, Seth wobbling across the road with Marissa, Seth well and truly wasted as he leapt out in front of a speeding car, Seth body so very, very still as Marissa wept over him.

"Don't touch me!" he roared, and there was a shocked gasp from Marissa and a sudden silence in the waiting room, but Ryan didn't _care. _He didn't care that he suddenly wanted to hit Marissa, more that he'd every wanted to hit anyone in his life, or that everyone was staring at him, or that he was crying.

He was crying.

He just had to get away, away, and his feet moved, taking him down the sterile, medical hallway, and there were Sandy and Kirsten, and he was crying because Kirsten was wailing in Sandy's arms, and Sandy was shaking his head, and a solemn faced doctor was saying he was sorry.

And Ryan felt like the bottom had dropped from his stomach, and the muscles in his legs had disintegrated, and he wanted to scream and shout and throw himself against the walls.

But he just stood there.

And he knew. It was all his fault.


End file.
